


The Summer After

by roundelet



Series: chubby sterek oneshots [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Belly Kink, Body Positivity, Chubby Stiles, Fluff, Insecure Stiles, M/M, Weight Gain, freshman fifteen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 15:10:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5502347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roundelet/pseuds/roundelet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I’ll relax when I lose thirty pounds,” Stiles said bitterly. And then wished he hadn’t ballparked such a big-sounding number. He quickly amended, “Twenty. No. Fifteen. Maybe less. I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of it. Because it’s not. A big deal, that is.”</i>
</p>
<p>  <i>Derek huffed a sound into the back of his neck that sounded suspiciously like amusement.</i></p>
<p>In which Stiles hadn't wanted to come back to Beacon Hills soft and fat like some freshman cliche. But he kind of does anyways. And Derek's kind of into it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Summer After

**Author's Note:**

> Belly kink and body positivity.

Derek tossed the washcloth away and settled into bed behind Stiles. The summer sun beat down through the loft windows. But Stiles still couldn't mind that Derek, bare and werewolf-hot, pressed himself against his back. Because this was his favorite part.  
  
Okay, so every part was Stiles’s favorite part. But the cuddling after? The way that Derek wrapped his muscled body around him? The way he buried his face in Stile's neck?  
  
The way he just _held on_?  
  
It felt like the kind of promise Derek would never say out loud.  
  
But, before Stiles could bask in it, he felt Derek's hand start to stroke down his side.  
  
Stiles tensed.  
  
This was the first time he’d seen Derek since Christmas. In retrospect, Stiles might have already made a start at the freshman fifteen by then. But he hadn't even really noticed it back then, so he doubted Derek had.  
  
The thing was, in the time since then there'd been more than a few of his new favorite cream cheese muffins at the library coffee shop, not-so-occasional gigantic, greasy and amazing pizza-by-the-slices from that place on 25th, and way too many bars that didn't look twice at his fake ID.  
  
That the college cafeteria happened to serve perfect crispy curly fries might possibly have had something to do with it, too.  
  
It wasn't like Stiles hadn't realized that his stomach wasn't so much flat anymore. Or that the new jeans he'd had to buy were two sizes up from his last pair.  
  
And it wasn't like he'd wanted to come back to Beacon Hills all soft and fat like some freshman cliche. He'd made plans. He'd looked up the gym on a campus map. He'd scoped out the limp lettuce and bruised little tomatoes in the cafeteria salad bar.  
  
But before he could put his plan into action, finals came up. And suddenly there was not enough adderall in the world. But food. Food helped him focus. And he knew that every minute he might have spent in the gym would have been another minute he could have spent highlighting his way through American Americana. In the end, he'd decided a couple more pounds was a fair trade for passing his classes.  
  
Now that he was in bed with Derek and his superhuman abs, he wondered if he'd made the wrong decision.  
  
Derek hadn't done a double-take or anything when Stiles had slid open the loft door earlier. Hadn't looked surprised when he'd stripped off Stiles's clothes. Hadn't seemed to notice that Stiles's stomach had wobbled with the motion of them finally, finally coming together again.  
  
But now? Now that the initial frantic arousal had passed? There was no way Derek wasn't going to notice.  
  
Derek nuzzled his nose into Stiles's neck. His hand was on the side of Stiles's waist now; his palm right over the crease between rolls of flesh, his fingers resting lightly over the sloping side of his belly.  
  
"Stiles, what's wrong?" Derek asked.  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Then relax."  
  
“I’ll relax when I lose thirty pounds,” Stiles said bitterly. And then wished he hadn’t ballparked such a big-sounding number. He quickly amended, “Twenty. No. Fifteen. Maybe less. I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of it. Because it’s not. A big deal, that is.”  
  
Derek huffed a sound into the back of his neck that sounded suspiciously like amusement.  
  
"What?" Stiles snapped. As much as he'd missed Derek, he was two seconds away from jumping out of bed and running out of the loft in humiliation.  
  
"Nothing," Derek said. He tucked one arm underneath and around Stiles and pulled him back against his broad chest. He said quietly, "I missed you."  
  
Stiles deflated. Because Derek never said things like that. So, instead of running away, he turned around in Derek's arms and said, "Fuck. Derek. Me, too."  
  
Stiles stroked his hand down Derek's arm wrapped over him. He traced the taut curves of muscle. "Remind me why I thought going to college three thousand miles away was a good idea?"  
  
"Best mythological studies program in the country?" Derek suggested, nuzzling into Stiles's neck.  
  
"That was a hypothetical question," Stiles said with a sigh, squirming when Derek's hand moved to rest on the swell of his middle. "And it's not like I got to do anything, anyways. Stupid gen ed requirements and--Can you not _do_ that?"  
  
Derek paused immediately in his explorations of Stiles's new belly, but unfortunately it was with his hand still fondling an inch or so of soft chub. It just looked wrong: Derek's strong hand, the ropy muscle of his forearm, contrasted against Stiles's pale pudge.  
  
"What's wrong?" Derek pulled his head back to meet Stiles's eyes.  
  
"Look, I'm sorry I got fat, okay," Stiles said. "But I'll be here all summer, with Deaton, and maybe I'll start running again. And it's not like I can keep junk food in my dad's house, anyways, because he'll eat it all. And I'll count calories or something. Lydia can teach me--you know she has this app on her phone?"  
  
"Stiles," Derek attempted to interrupt.  
  
"I'll be wearing my old jeans before you know it. And--"  
  
"Stiles," Derek said, this time putting a bit of a growl into it. Stiles dared to glance back up at him.  
  
"I'm sorry," Stiles said again.  
  
"Stop _saying_ that," Derek said. Then exhaled a long breath as he spread his hand wide over Stiles's stomach. "Just let me touch you."  
  
"Derek--"  
  
"Please."  
  
"But my fat gut? Really?"  
  
Derek finally removed his hand from Stiles's stomach. He pushed himself up on his elbow, giving Stiles a disturbingly vulnerable frown. As if Stiles's protest was some kind of rejection of him. As if letting Derek touch his soft, vulnerable parts was some kind of show of trust.  
  
And, damn, is that what this was? Showing his belly to a wolf?  
  
"Fine," Stiles sighed. He reached for Derek's hand, threaded their fingers together. Watched as Derek stared down at their joined hands.  
  
Then Stiles brought Derek's hand back down to the swell of his stomach. He pressed Derek's palm into the biggest part, the broad curve between his chest and his belly button. Trying not to think too hard about what he was doing, Stiles kept his hand on top of Derek's and guided it down the curves of his stomach.  
  
By all logic, Derek should have been grossed out by the feel of all of Stiles's flab. But instead he practically purred into his neck.  
  
It gave Stiles a strange sort of courage. He urged Derek's hand a little deeper into his spare flesh.  
  
Stiles had never gotten a belly rub before. Before this last winter, when it started getting unavoidably prominent, he'd never even thought much of his stomach. And then all he could think about was avoiding it at all costs. There was the quick swipe of soap over his growing pudge in the shower, but that was it.  
  
So this? Derek, as he started to touch, stroke, massage Stiles's chub and Stiles having to bite back an embarrassing moan? The fact that his dick was taking more than a little interest?  
  
Hella weird. And Stiles was the freaking expert of weird.  
  
All at once, Derek just _squeezed_ the lower roll of his belly. The moan Stiles had been holding back escaped his throat, his cock leaked pre-come and this all would have been horrifyingly embarrassing if he couldn't feel Derek just as hard against his thigh. If Derek hadn't sounded totally wrecked when he groaned into his neck.  
  
"Fuck, Stiles. You're so."  
  
"I know," Stiles said. Because he did. He grabbed at Derek's shoulder to pull him over on top of him. Derek propped himself up above Stiles on one arm, his other hand still pressed into Stiles's belly. Stiles grabbed at his muscled shoulders. Tugged him down into a messy kiss.  
  
Because this was a new kind of intimacy between them. And, jesus, if Derek could like Stiles's most embarrassing bits, could get off on it, could somehow even make Stiles get off on it, too?  
  
This might be his new favorite part.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This was edited and expanded from my very first post on my [tumblr](http://roundelet.tumblr.com/).


End file.
